


When the static speaks your name

by Cecils-tentacles (Heavydirtys0ul)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Cecil is Mostly Human, He can see the future, His Sight is sometimes effected by things he touches, M/M, and sometimes through emotions or hopes or questions he asks it, for medicine not drugs, needles mention, smut with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-24 13:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/Cecils-tentacles
Summary: There's few people left in the world. But right now, only two of them matter; a scientist with the nicest smile, and the man on the radio with a third eye.





	When the static speaks your name

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the idea of the apocalypse.

The sun sets on a red sky, the world as quiet as it usually is or, at least as, quiet as it usually is at the end of June. The desert sands house one small town and a radio station, then not much else for miles, for _weeks_ even. Not many people migrate to the desert in the hot weather and prefer to settle only when they can find the materials necessary, but then they would have to _want_ to go to Night Vale, and very few do. Even when the world was whole and Mother Nature hadn't suffocated the disease that was murdering her, few willingly went to Night Vale but even _fewer_ wanted to leave. That is simply the curse of a town that never should have been. 

When the Earth had fried Night Vale had miraculously remained untouched, perhaps even climate change didn't want to tackle _that_, not even a God would look at Night Vale and decide to pick a fight. Not even a God would _win_ that fight for that matter.

But this story isn't about that, it's not about the end of the world or the end of anything in fact, it's about a lone wandering scientist who finds himself in a town untouched by time, a radio DJ who can see everything that ever was and ever will be, and the two of them _falling in love_.

Carlos checks the radiation levels on his Geiger counter for the sixth time in the past hour; the levels have remained unchanged but one can never be too cautious when radiation is eating away the world around it. He glances at his watch and calculates the time since his last supplements and the next ones, before deciding he has another hour before he'll need to take them. His beaten up truck does nothing for the scorching heat as he sits back in the front seat, a needle in one hand and a vial in the other, wincing as he rolls back his sleeve to reveal his mildly bruised forearms. 

Survival kit for the wasteland, medicine, supplements and chemicals that rid you of the radiation but will probably kill you in other ways. It's not the best way to live but it is all that's left in terms of doing so. Carlos winces as the needle pricks his skin but is otherwise fine, trying not to clench his muscles when the needle is withdrawn and he haphazardly cleans and bandages it. He isn't sure how far away the next town over is, but on his map it looks like there is a small city just north of here; in the middle of the desert. It's drawn as a series of small boxes and unlike the other locations on his map...it doesn't have a _name_. "Weird," The man mutters to himself, tying his knotting dark curls up with an elastic band "But not the weirdest thing I've seen recently," And with that he shuts his truck door and starts to drive. 

\--

Carlos reaches the city limits in less than three hours, and when he does his radio crackles into life despite the odd hour of the night, filling his quiet truck with a smooth and soft voice. Despite everything he had been feeling, this voice sounds like hope and trust and many other things, it is compelling and quiet yet hard and forceful at the same time. W_hat a strange thing to think,_ Carlos informs himself internally,_ to know who a voice belongs too before you even have their name_. Carlos feels an invisible shiver as though he is being watched as he drives through mildly cracked streets and...streetlights, this place has working and fully functioning street lamps that do not flicker or glare or spark occasionally. The buildings are intact too, some even with coloured brickwork in purple or orange. 

This place is strange, Carlos knows instantly, this place is like nowhere he had ever seen in the wasteland. This city is almost like a...well it is like a ghost town that is being lived in, a relic of the past that somehow houses the living. "How?" he mutters to himself, pulling over at the side of a road that isn't missing chunks of it "How is all of this just...here?" The voice on the radio speaks and somehow he speaks to Carlos. 

"A stranger has entered our midst, Night Vale, a newcomer," The brown skinned man stares at the crackling speakers as they glow faintly in the low light of the night "Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? More on this later, but first, the weather," And then music begins to play through the radio speakers. Carlos half laughs and half cries, wondering exactly why this place is giving him a shiver straight down his spine; but this place is weird. Quietly, in the distance, he hears someone shout "interloper!" in the distance, as though shouted indirectly out of a window. However, he knows somehow that it is very directly aimed at him. A few more calls, half-hearted and a little tired, fall out into the air to reach him but he figures he will deal with this later. He really needs to sleep. And there are...real houses here, made out of concrete and stone and not...wood. 

Almost all of the man made buildings had been fried in the apocalypse; houses destroyed, farms drowned and set alight simultaneously, but there were buildings here, still standing. Carlos' natural instinct to find out more overcomes his desire to sleep, and if he has to guess who has answers it'll be the mysterious man on the radio. 

Not for the first time, Carlos steps on the pedal and begins to drive again; he's making guesses now and his not always accurate powers of deduction are telling him the large and strange building with a too large antenna to be proportionate, is where he needs to be; the radio station. There's a fierce determination on his face despite how nervous he feels, like he's about to meet someone important and it's a feeling he cannot shake, his hands shake a little in response to the pounding of his heart as he pulls up outside the station. He stares for just a moment, a stray curl falling into his dark caramel eyes as they survey his destination. 

Then he gets out of his truck, and he walks uptown the door, heavy leather boots against the gravel that make him look much taller than he actually is. His raises a hand to knock, but the doors open before he gets a chance, on the other side is a nervous looking teenager who smiles like he’s panicking. “He’s been expecting you,” There’s a little intern badge on the scrawny boy’s shirt “Top floor, along the corridor, you can take the elevator,” He offers a little ID card “To get you through the doors, otherwise Station Management will dissipate you,”

Carlos does _not_ want to think about what that means, so he just takes the ID card and nods, he has questions but the poor kid looks ready to faint, so he doesn’t ask him. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had an interloper,” He explains, apparently reading the man’s face “Sorry I’m a little nervous,” The doctor can certainly see that, but once again he does not quite know how to respond so he simply nods and then heads to the elevator. The door opens the moment he pushes the button, as though waiting for him. Carlos is becoming used to strange occurrences, so he presses the button for the top floor and the intern stares at him as the door closes. 

So who exactly is he about to meet? And _how_ did he know he was coming? Suddenly the thought of having the answer to those questions feels too heavy, and just as he's contemplating turning around and going back to his car, the elevator stop sand the doors ping open. There's a security gate almost a foot away from the elevator door, whether it's too keep people out or somebody else in is another story. Carlos swipes the ID card and pushes the gate open, and far too many lights flicker on at once along a long corridor to a room that has chairs outside of it. Inside the room, Carlos can see a radio booth and a man talking into a microphone.

His body seems to want to resist, to carry him away from the man and his booth and the too-bright lights on too-white walls. The brown skinned man tells himself to continue forward anyway, leather jacket bouncing against the sides of his thighs as he walks. He cracks his knuckles a little nervously, an interesting look for a man wearing thick leather boots and bulletproof pants that he designed himself. As well as someone who carries weapons everywhere, you just never know in this climate when someone is going to decide to want the loot off your dead body. 

When Carlos reaches the room, he stares through the tinted windows at the man. His facial features are concealed by his hair, which is swept back but due to the way he's resting his head on his hand it's fallen to the side. Otherwise it's neatly trimmed, appearing to be shaved at the back. They still have barbers here then. The booth is soundproof, but Carlos can see by the way he sits up slowly and pulls his headphones off that he's finishing up his show. Carlos steps back on instinct as the man stands, wearing...a shirt, a tailored shirt, and waistcoat and then what appeared to be skintight leather pants. A gust of air whistles through the doctor's teeth as he takes this into his mind, he hadn't seen someone dress for style..._ever_, now that he thinks about it...**_are those heels_**? He's so transfixed on the outfit that when the door opens he forgets to look at the stranger's face, but when he does he trips over his own words. "Oh," Carlos whispered. 

Three violet eyes blink at him and then a smile breaks across the strangers face "Hello," It's polite, firm, and that voice is still evoking a hundred and one emotions that Carlos is unused to feeling one at a time, never mind all at _once_. "I'm Cecil, I run the radio station," He holds out a hand, and his nails are black and sharp but Carlos cannot tell if this is an aesthetic choice or just how his nails are, he shakes the hand anyway because it is the polite thing to do. "And I've been expecting you," He smiles and something about it should be ominous, those words should be scarier, but instead Carlos finds himself fixated on the man's-Cecil's-smile. It's a nice smile, a _kind_ smile, if not a little sharp. Literally, his canines are ridiculously pointed. 

"Carlos," He whispered, remembering suddenly to let go of the hand he's shaking "I'm...my name is Carlos," Then he smiles too, "I was just passing through, I'm a traveller, well I'm a doctor but I don't usually stay in one settlement once I've taught the people there how to use the equipment and how to set up trade...but this place looks like the sort of place that has their own doctor," He stares out of a window and realises this building overlooks the entire city; shadowed buildings lit by streetlamp and the occasional lightbulb...it's nothing like Carlos has ever seen. He feels a sudden wave of awe as he looks over the city, at it's massiveness, at how...untouched it is. It's beautiful. "How do you have all these resources? All these people...and...and _buildings_!" He rushes out fascinated, hands flailing as if to help quantify the emotions he's experiencing. "It's amazing, real civilisation...I can't believe no one has ever heard of this place," 

"Time is strange in Night Vale," Cecil explains "We exist inside and outside of time simultaneously, it's because of this we weren't hurt in the disasters that shook everywhere else, unfortunately some of our citizens lost loved ones in the events, but for the most part we...and our town, weren't hurt at all," He stares out of the window like he's trying to see something that Carlos is seeing, to understand the wonder. He notices there are scars on the back of the doctor's hand, stitched in a hurry and possibly whilst shaking judging by the haphazard approach and inconsistency. There's blood on his jacket, sand and dirt in his hair and on his skin. He's a traveller, and he's seen a lot; this may be the closest bit of peace he's had, it must be wondrous to see this in years of travelling. "Unfortunately people can't know about Night Vale, at least not _en masse,_" Cecil continued "our scientists have warned us that Night Vale is a mistake, a fragment in a time stream that should not exist, if people migrate here then the whole of Human history will be altered, one or two people is fine but...entire groups, cities, settlements? One wrong move and everything can change, I don't quite know what that means but I assume it's bad," 

"Physics," Carlos muttered "Theoretical physics I had assumed but...perhaps not, oh this has got to be the most scientifically interesting community I have ever seen!" Cecil smiles as his eyes light up and his hands flail and thinks "I am instantly falling in love with this man," But he doesn't say it, instead he gestures back towards the elevator. 

"Allow me to offer you my guest room, you must be tired,"

Their eyes meet, and Carlos, once again, feels the thud of his heart in his chest "Thank you," And he accepts. 

\--

Cecil learns two things that night. The first is that a handsome man stepping out of his shower with a towel wrapped around his waist whilst shyly asking if he had some spare clothes, is a one way ticket to his heart. The second is that he is definitely in love with Carlos. And no, it's not because of the beads of water glistening against his muscled chest or the long curls tied back in a neat, yet flattering bun, or even the way his eyes linger on Cecil like he's running out of air. No, it's because of the way Carlos treats things. He hadn't panicked upon realising that Cecil's biology is not the standard, he hadn't flinched away from him in disgust or shock or fear, he had stared at him with a second of _'woah'_ and then immediately gone into wonder, and then forgotten all together that Cecil even had three eyes. And that's who Carlos _is_. 

He gasps like a child upon seeing real beds, staring up at the roof like a miracle had been gifted too him and had almost fallen over with a soft "I can use the shower?' when offered. He runs around staring at things, like wallpaper and kitchen tiles like he had never seen them before, pointing and asking questions and refusing to sit still until he had every and _all_ of the answers. 

Carlos is so full of curiosity, that Cecil thinks he would be a fool, that _anyone_ would be a fool, not to love him. 

They sleep in the same bed, though Carlos offers to take the floor or the couch "I'm used to sleeping anywhere and everywhere," He had said ("And that is why I'm offering to let you sleep in my bed," Cecil had replied with an eyebrow raised), Cecil has not had anyone in his bed for a long time and some part of him knows why, because he'd been waiting for this day. And he'd been waiting a _very_ long time. This may be the first time that Carlos has met Cecil, but this is not the first time Cecil has known Carlos. 

\--

Cecil wakes up straight into something else that isn't the present. His hands graze against the bedsheets to affirm where he is, but that seems to be the source of his catapult into the future. He can see so much, too much sometimes. It takes him a moment in his slumber to understand what he's seeing, what he's hearing and what he's feeling. A hot rush of blood runs up his spine at the image of hands grasping bedsheets and his own head tilted back in ecstasy. Cecil screws his eyes shut, now that Carlos is here his visions are getting stronger and he knows he's going to have to confess to his current companion, and future lover, that their destiny is already written out. That he's seen it. That he knows _why_ Carlos is here. He also knows that he doesn't want to do that. 

He'd known Carlos would come. He remembers the first time he had a vision about him; about his battered truck and unruly curls and dark skin, he remembers the way he'd spaced out for hours afterwards. He hadn't known then how he would grow to love Carlos, he hadn't known he'd be so delightful to be around or that his personality would be so multitudinous but he is glad that he knows those things now. He has been waiting a long time for the doctor to arrive, at least two years, and now he's here Cecil doesn't know what to do or what to say or how to tell him that he's always known he would be here. 

It's worth noting that Cecil had no idea he would literally fall in love overnight because of a pretty smile and blushing cheeks and an unwavering kindness for someone so jumpy and on guard. He had expected to perhaps have to wait a year or so, that it would be gradual like the slow decay of river rocks, rather than a downhill landslide headfirst into his own heart. He slides out of bed and walks away from it before opening his eyes gingerly, sighing with relief once he realised that it is indeed the bed causing his visions today, running a stressed hand through his hair and realising he is certainly not getting more sleep, he slides on his fluffy pink dressing gown and heads to the kitchen to start on making some breakfast; he assumed the wanderer is hungry and plans on spoiling him absolutely _rotten_. 

He sets about on the breakfast, music playing from his phone as he sways along to it, hair falling into his eyes and tattoos writhing just a little under his skin as if in tune with the music that is playing. He shushes them in implication that they are A) speaking and B) a child that requires such a tone, but smiles too himself as he fries the eggs, bacon and sausages. He sways his hips a little, sock cladded feet sliding on the floor. 

Carlos awakes to a smell he has never smelt before, that makes his stomach rumble and smells so _utterly_ delicious. First, the doctor rubs his eyes and then sits up, pulling the elastic band from his hair to tie it up a little neater as his feet hit the carpeted floor, pushing open the bedroom door to stare into the joint witch and living room. the sight he sees makes him smile like it's familiar, like somehow and somewhere he has seen this a million times whilst at the same time, it is the first time he's seen such a sight. Cecil's platinum blonde hair falls into his violet eyes; unruly and ruffled from sleep, a smile on his lips as he shimmies a little, the dressing gown slipping down his shoulders as he loses track of it in his bliss. It's designed to expose a little bit of collar bone, but either Carlos really needs to get his hormones in check or the eyeful of chest he's currently getting is absolutely _wonderful_. 

Then Cecil opens his mouth and _sings_. And _fuck_, that voice is like a million stars exploding at once, rushing through Carlos' bloodstream to wide, fascinated eyes and a pounding heart. He inhales so sharply that he chokes on the air and coughs, silencing the _wonderful_, beautiful voice. Then his stomach rumbles and he realises that Cecil is making food, five minutes after he was_ supposed_ to realise he was making food like any normal person would. What is this man doing to him? Is it possible to fall in love so _quickly?_ Maybe Carlos has simply been alone for too long? 

"Good morning," The radio host practically purrs "I trust you slept well?" Dumbly he nods in response, like Carlos wasn't the sort of man who studied old theoretical physics textbooks for fun or taught people how to heal and care for himself and could stitch himself up on morphine and willpower alone. No suddenly he has one brain cell and it's essentially heart shaped whilst baffled. "I made breakfast, I imagine you must be rather hungry," The doctor's mouth waters a little as he sits down at the breakfast bar whilst Cecil dishes up breakfast.

It feels too domestic for near strangers.

_It's now or never,_ Cecil thinks to himself, he knows he needs to get this out of the way _now_. It'll be weirder for this to develop without Carlos knowing. He sets the plate down in front of the man before taking a deep breath "There's something I need to tell you," He smiles nervously, something that doesn't happen often; Cecil is always confident, it's hard not to be confident when you see the future and the past and the present as though they're all happening at once. He sits down opposite Carlos "I knew you would come here, I mean...I didn't know specifically when but I knew you would come here and I knew you would be here now, eating breakfast with me and I know what happens for the next few weeks and bits and pieces of your future because...because you have a future here, with me, our timelines are destined to converge," He floods it all out at once like ripping off a bandaid, but his grip on the counter is shaking as well as turning white around the knuckles. "I've waited a long time for you to be here, and I needed to tell you now because I didn't want to hide that from you and you find out later," 

"Oh," It's a muttered, soft and speechless reply but not literally speechless because he spoke, but emotionally and in a _"Read between the lines"_ way, speechless. Carlos doesn't know what to say or how to say what he thinks he should say, so instead he shrugs a little and pushes beans around his plate awkwardly "Well, that's alright, there are weirder things to happen," And then he shoves a forkful of beans into his mouth "At least I know I'm safe here," Cecil blinks and opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, but all that comes out is a strangled sound between shock, and admiration, and something _else_ that he's feeling but isn't _quite_ sure what it is. 

"I suppose that_ is_ one way of looking at it," 

Carlos grins, Cecil feels his heart try to give out in its chest cavity. 

\--

Cecil avoids the bed for the rest of the day. "You're welcome to make yourself at home," He smiles warmly "I have to go to work in about," He looks out the window and stares at the sky "Soon," he finally finishes "When the sun gets to that position," He points, Carlos can't help but laugh a little, but then he nods in understanding because there's nothing else he can do but _try_ to understand this _weird_ and **_wonderful_** man. Cecil smiles back. 

\--

He gets another vision at work, resulting his him screwing his eyes shut and darting back from his own radio desk._ 'Really?'_ he thinks to himself _'Why the desk? What a weird place to do **that,**'_

He definitely_ doesn't _think about it all the way back to his home_. _

_\--_

Carlos has discovered his book collection and is sat cross legged on the bed reading, wearing what looked like goggles over his eyes, they're thick lensed so Cecil assumes this was the wasteland edition of glasses, he thinks Carlos looks adorable and tries not to think too hard about it. Except he must have though too hard about it because the moment he sits on the bed his senses are flooded with future memories of warm kisses and interlaced fingertips. Cecil hisses audibly and screws his eyes shut, darting off the bed. "Fuck," He growls a little, opening his eyes gingerly to find the doctor staring up at him with wonder. 

"What...was _that?_" He inhales sharply, that curious look back and staring with wonder. Cecil sighs a little and points to his third eye. 

"The future, it's being a bitch," He mutters "This eye sees it, it's usually influenced by objects, things, people, emotions, and right now I've got the unfortunate combination of all three, so it's hitting a little more pointedly," He gives a sheepish smile "I don't really like peeking at the future too much though," Carlos pushes the goggles up into his hair and stares for a moment. 

"Can I...can I see? It looked super interesting, just for a moment...out of curiosity's sake, for science you know?" Cecil raises an eyebrow at the doctor, before giving a small half smile and nodding. He takes a deep breath and sits back down on the bed, letting his emotions roll over him, his fingertips brushing against the bedsheets as the future runs through him like he is no more than a honing beacon for a timeline he has no surprises from. This bed apparently houses a lot of that future, because in seconds he has those flashes of visions again. Carlos' lips and hands and..._oh._ Cecil's cheeks flush and a strangled sound escapes his throat as the present and future blend and the phantom brush of hands over his body has him jolting off of the bed. 

Once again his...whatever he is...has that curious look on his face, a hand comes out to steady Cecil, more emotionally than physically, he notes absently that the man feels warmer suddenly, taking in the flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. It take shim a second to form a hypothesis and when he does he realises just where they were and the sort of futures couples tend to have in bed. "Oh...dear," Carlos rests his forehead in the palm of his hand "I realise my mistake, I possibly should have asked for a less intimate spot, I am so sorry I..."

"It's okay," Cecil cuts him off "Believe me when I say at some point, not a _single_ surface is safe from us, just give me a moment to manage," 

Carlos definitely does not squeak in response, and if he did it was _incredibly_ manly and not at _all_ flustered. 

\--

Their days continue like this, both of them aware of the endgame and neither quite sure how to approach it. Cecil gets random visions, some sweeter and softer than others, like holding hands and soft morning kisses over breakfast, cuddling with the sheets wrapped around them with their fingertips brushing over each other's skin. It is such a happy life that he looses himself in these, staring vacantly into a future he has if he's brave enough to just broach the topic. But he wants to now Carlos is okay first, and waits instead for him to talk first and adjust to this town and to Cecil and to...everything that comes with the knowledge that your future lies with a man who will always be one step ahead of you. 

Some of Cecil's visions are not so soft, some are scratching fingernails and hair pulling and bitten lips and arching into bodies like the world is ending around them (again). Some are gasps of his lover's name and his face pressed into pillows, hands scrabbling through sheets in pure ecstasy. Sometimes, he wishes he couldn't see that, not just because it's inconvenient to hide but also because he won't get the surprise of seeing Carlos so vulnerable, or knowing what he himself is like so vulnerable. 

Or so he thought. 

A week into Carlos practically moving in with him, Cecil comes home from work with a yawn on his lips and Carlos is sat at the table. He stands as the homeowner walks through the door and takes the sort of breath that someone takes when they're nervous. "The future is already written?" He asks, crossing the floor to stand in front of a man who is wearing heels and is at least a head taller than him. The blond nods, cautiously and nervously, swallowing against a dry throat as a dark hand comes to rest on his chest. "Okay," And then Cecil is being pressed against the door, their lips pressed together, their bodies pressed together, Carlos' hands pushing Cecil's jacket off of his shoulder. 

Cecil's lips part against the smaller man's, hands running through those perfect curls, gasping as the doctor's hands unbutton his shirt a little clumsily and it's just hanging open over his bare chest until that too drifts to the floor. Then Cecil is trying to get those damned heels off but he doesn't want their lips to part from each other for even a second because he needs to breathe but he specifically needs the air that's in Carlos' lungs, he's convinced he might die if they part. He's waited so, so long, so many years of knowing and waiting. 

Carlos pushes him down onto the bed, curious hands exploring the other's body, tracing lines with careful hands, finding the spots that make Cecil jerk and arch into him, that make soft noises and loud noises clamber desperately from his lips. And then he simply doesn't stop, taking Cecil apart with these touches as though he's taking apart a watch or maybe holding the universe between his fingertips. Suddenly, it feels as though he is, as though he's holding the entire world in his hands and with that shaking thought he pulls away to catch his breath. Cecil looks wrecked below him, chest heaving breaths, sweat clinging to his soft stomach and chest, Carlos can't help the small laugh of disbelief "You're so..._pretty,_" he whispers in sheer reverence. Cecil's eyes widen because he hasn't seen this and never could have, that look of awe, then he smiles because he _hasn't_ seen this and for once he feels as though someone might actually surprise him. 

\--

Cecil wakes up with Carlos' head on his chest and their bodies intertwined with each other, the thud of Carlos' heartbeat is real and not a mirage, his skin feels soft and yet calloused at the same time. Their lives intertwined around each other in ways that the seer had seen so many times, but feeling it is so much better, to know it is real and constant and not something that can slip like sand through the hourglass. He had spent his entire life expecting a future that had no plot twists and been pleasantly surprised by how _wonderful_ it is, he couldn't have seen the soft compliments Carlos gave him, or the way he asks if he's okay, or how his breath feels against his neck, or how their heartbeats stabilise against each others. He can see many things, but not _everything_. 

And for that he is eternally grateful. 


End file.
